Tessa stared. The thing that emerged from the shadows was gigantic—twenty feet tal , she guessed, made of iron. There was barely any jointure.
It appeared to move as one single fluid mechanism, seamless and almost featureless. Its bottom half did split into legs, each one ending in a foot tipped with metal spikes. Its arms were the same, finishing in clawlike hands, and its head was a smooth oval broken only by a wide jagged-toothed mouth like a crack in an egg. A pair of twisting silvery horns spiraled up from its “head.” A thin line of blue fire crackled between them.
In its enormous hands it carried a limp body, dressed in gear. Against the bulk of the gigantic automaton, she looked even smal er than ever.
“Charlotte!” Tessa screamed. She redoubled her attempts to get away from Nate, whipping her head to the side. Some of her hair tore free and fluttered to the ground—Jessamine’s fair hair, stained now with blood. Nate retaliated by slapping her hard enough that she saw stars; when she sagged, he caught her around the throat, the buttons on his cuffs digging into her windpipe.
Nate chuckled. “A prototype,” he said. “Abandoned by the Magister. Too large and cumbersome for his purposes. But not for mine.” He raised his voice. “Drop her.”
The automaton’s metal hands opened. Charlotte tumbled free and struck the ground with a sickening thump. She lay unmoving. From this distance Tessa could not tel if her chest was rising and fal ing or not.
“Now crush her,” said Nate.
Ponderously the thing raised its spiked metal foot. Tessa clawed at Nate’s forearms, ripping his skin with her nails.
“Charlotte!” For a moment Tessa thought the voice screaming was her own, but it was too low-pitched for that. A figure darted out from behind the automaton, a figure al in black, topped by a shock of blazing ginger hair, a thin-bladed misericord in hand.
Henry.
Without even a glance at Tessa and Nate, he launched himself at the automaton, bringing his blade down in a long curving arc. There was the clang of metal on metal. Sparks flew, and the automaton staggered back. Its foot came down, slamming into the floor, inches from Charlotte’s supine body. Henry landed, then threw himself at the creature again, slashing out with his blade.
The blade shattered. For a moment Henry simply stood and looked at it with stupid shock. Then the creature’s hand whipped forward and seized him by the arm. He shouted out as it lifted him and threw him with incredible force against one of the pil ars; he struck it, crumpled, and fel to the floor, where he lay stil .
Nate laughed. “Such a display of matrimonial devotion,” he said. “Who would have thought it? Jessamine always said she thought Branwel couldn’t stand his wife.”
“You’re a pig,” Tessa said, struggling in his grasp. “What do you know about the things people do for each other? If Jessamine were burning to death, you wouldn’t look up from your card game. You care for nothing but yourself.”
“Be quiet, or I’l loosen your teeth for you.” Nate shook her again, and cal ed out, “Come! Over here. You must hold her til the Magister arrives.”
With a grinding of gears the automaton moved to obey. It was not as swift as its smal er brethren, but its size was such that Tessa could not help but fol ow its movements with an icy fear. And that was not al . The Magister was coming. Tessa wondered if Nate had summoned him yet, if he was on his way. Mortmain. Even the memory of his cold eyes, his icy, control ing smile, made her stomach turn. “Let me go,” she cried, jerking away from her brother. “Let me go to Charlotte—”
Nate shoved her forward, hard, and she sprawled on the ground, her elbows and knees connecting with force with the hard wooden floor. She gasped and rol ed sideways, under the shadow of the second-floor gal ery, as the automaton lumbered toward her. She cried out— And they leaped from the gal ery above, Wil and Jem, each landing on a shoulder of the creature. It roared, a sound like bel ows being fed with coal, and staggered back, al owing Tessa to rol out of its path and launch herself to her feet. She glanced from Henry to Charlotte. Henry was pale and stil , crumpled beside the pil ar, but Charlotte, lying where the automaton had dropped her, was in imminent danger of being crushed by the rampaging machine.